


la la la la, take me home

by newsbypostcard



Series: En Promenade [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6587449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsbypostcard/pseuds/newsbypostcard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Uhh.” The noise was involuntary; Jim pulled back from Bones’ lips. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Bones replied. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, his eyes showing a hint of barely-subdued horror. “Syllables.”</p><p>“Really!" Thrill danced in his gut, erstwhile dread entirely forgotten. "Because it sounded suspiciously like something <em>incredibly fucking romantic.</em>”</p>
            </blockquote>





	la la la la, take me home

**Author's Note:**

> This is an expat scene from the _En Promenade_ universe, specifically from [this chapter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2318108/chapters/6331415). 
> 
> There is no additional context required to read this fic, however, except that it was originally placed right after Jim returned from a somewhat harrowing stint aboard the Farragut for the last three months. Feel free to replace it with your own situation Jim was in where his life was preserved only narrowly.

Jim had just asked Bones to come home with him to Iowa, so the evidence clearly supported the notion that he'd lost his mind. 

The thing of it was that Jim had to face his mother eventually or risk feeling worse than he already did. Given that every time he thought about her even for a second he felt the compulsive urge to burn the guilt out of him with six shots of whatever liquor was nearest, feeling worse than he already did seemed like a really bad idea. A year ago he'd have said 'fuck it' and done the shots anyway; but lately there was _Bones_ , someone who forced him to face up to himself and his feelings on the regular just by being around and his acerbic self. And that was -- scary. And not even a little bit Jim's fault. So as penance for doing this to him, Jim decided, he would drag Bones with him.

So far the 'dragging' looked suspiciously like 'asking worriedly,' but Jim wasn't inclined to be pedantic on the subject.

Look -- it wasn't what it sounded like. It wasn't that being around Bones was making Jim _soft_. It was more that sometimes, lately, when Jim thought about the ways he'd let his mom down, he looked up at Bones instead and thought, _at least I didn't have to kill her._ So his own problems had started to look a little bit different, no matter how the thought of being in the same room as Winona had made him clench his fists and punch the poor bastard who happened to be an asshole and kind of close to him at the time of such envelope-pushing.

Iowa. Yeah.

Guess he was going home for Christmas.

He'd done his best to be casual as he'd asked if Bones wanted to come. He'd done it when he'd been upside down on Bones' bed, while he was studying, with his head tipped over the edge. He hadn't mentioned that Winona would be there. And yet somehow, it had landed. Bones had reacted with such accusatory ire at the suggestion that Jim had been sure he'd think it was a prank of some kind, but then Bones had pushed himself out of his chair and thrown a leg over Jim where he lay on the bed and kissed him stupid.

So, if Jim had to guess, they were _definitely_ going to Iowa. They'd fucked on it. It was all but signed in blood by that point. No going back.

"Shit." Jim licked his lips and looked over at Bones beside him. Bones opened his eyes slowly, as though glued shut by the effort of sex. "I didn't think, Bones, but I remember now. We can't go to Iowa."

"What?" Bones knew him too well; he looked immediately suspicious. "Why?"

"It's -- being fumigated."

"All of Iowa is being fumigated?"

"No, obviously, just my mom's condo is being fumigated. For... cockroaches."

"Cockroaches."

"Big ones. They might actually be rats. Ooh! They might be _aliens_."

"Jim."

"Size of dinner plates." Jim held up his hand splayed wide as though to demonstrate.

Bones only blinked at him.

"God!" Jim threw up his hands. "Enough with the third degree! Okay, fine, there are no cockroach-rats. I actually remembered that they've scheduled all of Iowa to be sunk into the sea that day."

"Christmas Day."

"Right. And I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry, my mom's going to be _fine_."

"Which sea would that be?"

"The Iowan Sea, obviously. Jesus, Bones, get your head out of the South."

" _Jim._ "

"Okay, fine!" Why was his heart pounding like this? "I changed my mind. I just… don't think you should come."

"You don't?"

"No. Iowa's nothing, a boring state. Farms. Weird… cliffs. It's gross. Obviously you should go to Georgia, where it's fun."

"All that great remembering how my family's dead and my wife divorced me. Yeah." Bones sneered. "Sounds _swell._ "

"Okay." Yeah, Jim hadn't thought this through. "So obviously you should stay here. You'll have clinic rotations..."

But Bones had had enough. Jim could tell by the way he actually had the audacity to grab Jim's hand and _intertwine their fingers together_ like he _cared_.

"Was I not clear on the fact that I might actually _want_ to come?" Bones drawled. There was an ease to his usual biting ferocity, like he was putting it on for Jim's benefit. "Or is there some other obstacle you're encountering in getting that information through your skull?"

Jim deflated, at that; swallowed; wiggled his fingers in Bones' grasp. "Everyone deserves to be home for the holidays, Bones," he'd muttered to the ceiling.

There was a long pause before Jim dared to look at Bones again, and when he did he found Bones looking at him right back, stare stony, brow flattened into a straight line.

"What's the real reason?" Bones asked.

Jim shrugged and looked away again. "That's it. That's the real reason. I asked you to come for selfish reasons. I asked you because I wanted you there."

"Jim."

"And that's stupid. You don't have to go there because I asked you to."

"How many more times I gotta tell you, kid? I _want to be there._ " Bones seemed to realize reasoning wasn't getting him very far; he let go of Jim's hand and reached over, grabbing him by the shoulder and the neck and pulling at him until Jim, slack-limbed, was pulled against him. "I don't want to do my rotations. I don't want to go to Georgia. If you hadn't asked I'd be spending the break in this very room with three bottles of bourbon and a stack of old medical journals."

"Wow," Jim said dryly, lips pressed against Bones' chest where he'd flopped down. "You're right. I can't condemn you to that."

"So you invited me. Were you serious? Because it sounds like a better deal in Iowa, even with the whole falling into the sea gambit."

Jim's eyes flitted up to Bones' just for a second before he shot them away again. "Yeah," he muttered. "I was serious."

"Good." And Jim allowed himself to be maneuvered by Bones' hands again until they rested against his face, Bones holding him in place as he kissed him stupid.

Jim’s cock was making its way to attention, so it was hard to make out the words around so much happening -- but between hot, clumsy kisses, the kind that made Jim's knees go weird, Jim thought he heard Bones say something that sounded suspiciously like, “Home seems to be wherever you are these days.”

“Uhh.” The noise was involuntary; Jim pulled back from Bones’ lips. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

“Nothing,” Bones replied. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, his eyes showing a hint of barely-subdued horror. “Syllables.”

“Really!" Thrill danced in his gut, erstwhile dread entirely forgotten. "Because it sounded suspiciously like something _incredibly fucking romantic._ ”

“You misheard.”

“I don’t think I did, though. I’m pretty sure you just said that home is wherever I am.”

“Out _rageous_."

“Nope! I am pretty goddamn certain that Bones McCoy, romantic denialist, just said one of the most cliche fucking things I’ve ever heard in my life, to me, on purpose.”

“If you in fact heard what you think you heard -- and that's a big _if_ \-- it definitely was not on purpose.”

Jim grinned and gave a quiet whoop of laughter. “You’re actually a huge fucking romantic, aren’t you?”

Bones actually _growled_ , deep in his throat. “Not anymore.”

“Sure. Okay. But you _were_ , once upon a time, right? You probably went the whole nine yards with Jocelyn. I’ve seen the way you get when you’re trying to charm someone. You probably gave all the right gifts and said all the right things, and literally swept her off her feet that one time just to see if you could.”

“For all it got me.”

“And now you grouch around hating everything because it -- what? -- failed you? Because its failure landed you in this situation? Which, by the way, despite appearances, I don’t think you actually hate.”

“No,” Bones said slowly, tugging Jim back in toward him with an expression of vague annoyance. “I don’t hate this."

Jim grinned widely. “That’s the Bones I know and love. ‘I don’t hate this’: a guide to wooing. Much more equivocal than ‘home is where you are’, which actually speaks fucking measures, you fucking dickbag. _God!_ I can’t believe you just said that!”

“Neither can I."

“How am I supposed to top that? Jesus Christ.”

“Do me a favour,” Bones growled. “Don’t try.”

“Okay. Christ. Let’s go to fucking Iowa. I’ll show you my own goddamn family horrors and you can drink in solidarity with me this time, which, by the way, I would do with literally no one else in the universe under any circumstances, so there’s your goddamn payback for that comment. Asshole. ‘Home is where you are.’ I can’t fucking believe that.”

And then Bones was laughing, genuine happiness splayed across his features as his fingers sought more significant purchase against Jim’s skin. He pulled Jim against him, burying Jim’s head against his chest, tugging gently at Jim’s hair with the sort of tacit affection Jim missed like a dagger to the heart when he was away from it. 

“I fucking love you,” Bones growled; and with his head pressed against his chest, Jim heard it resonate deep in his ribcage.

“Oh my god,” Jim replied. He tightened his limbs around Bones in response. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you high right now?”

“I’m just happy you actually survived yet another impossible goddamn situation against all odds. You immortal, or what? Shit you pull.”

“Yeah, Bones,” Jim agreed, though he heard his own voice grow hollow as he rested his head back against his chest. “That must be it."

They lay in silence for some time, Bones' hand carding through his hair.

"I'm coming to Iowa," Bones muttered, as though to settle the issue. "Try and stop me."

And, even if he was tempted, Jim, for once, didn't.


End file.
